


Insults and Questionable Techniques

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spoiler: They Never Talk, The Fic In Which Dolls Is Suspicious, which is fair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Get up, loser, I made breakfast.”  She turns to leave, pauses.  “Okay, that sounded quippier in my head.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insults and Questionable Techniques

For the first few weeks, it’s awkward.  There’s really no other word for it.  He’s uncomfortable sleeping in a bed while Wynonna curls up on what looks like the world’s most uncomfortable couch, but any time he brings it up she just scowls and tells him to shut up or, if he feels that weird about it, he can move in to the barn with Doc.  Don’t get him wrong, he likes the guy—he’s not sure he likes him enough to share sleeping space with him.  It always feels like she’s hanging back, like there’s something she’s not saying, and he doesn’t ask.  In any case, it’s not like they’re ever alone anymore _to_ talk.

Then the weirdest thing happens—she wakes him up.  She’s _never_ up before him, and it feels a lot like waking up in the Twilight Zone (somehow more so than his regular life, which says enough) when she knocks on his door, lets herself in, and says, “Get up, loser, I made breakfast.”  She turns to leave, pauses.  “Okay, that sounded quippier in my head.”

With a quick snort, he pushes out of bed and follows her, muttering, “Well, it was mean.”

“Like you haven’t been mean!” she gasps, scandalized.

“I resent that,” he frowns even as she hands him coffee.

“Yeah,” she hums, “Let’s just not go there, hm?”

On the table, there’s a tower of pancakes, platters of eggs and bacon, and hash browns.  “You made this?” he asks.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that,” she replies, offended.

“Where’s your sister?”

“Nicole’s” she says into her own mug, brow arching.

“Doc?”

“Not invited.”  At her look, eyes bright but hiding something, he pauses, and she sighs, “I didn’t launch an offensive against the US federal government to _rescue you_ just to poison you weeks after the fact.  That’s—that’s just not an efficient use of my time.”

“I didn’t think you were trying to _poison_ me, I just—“

“I’m trying to seduce your dumb ass,” she interrupts exasperatedly.

And, for all her bravado, he can see the way she tenses.

“You woke up at, what, seven?  To… seduce me?” he frowns, stepping closer.

Her grin is quick and easy and maybe a little sharp around the edges when she answers, “Listen, I’m _very_ serious about getting—“

“That’s probably good, nothing you were gonna say after that was gonna be sexy,” he teases.

“Amazing,” she huffs.  “So, are you gonna—“

He doesn’t let her finish, slamming his lips into hers too-hard and a little off-center and feeling her laugh into it.  Her fingers dig into his shoulders as his arms wind around her waist.  It’s all a little too much, sloppy and desperate, but he’s a starving man at a banquet.  He can feel her muttering against his lips when they break away to breathe, too soft to make out.  His hand comes up to cup her jaw and he kisses her softer this time.

Her grin is big and infuriatingly smug when she pulls back, leaning against the table.  “I’m thinking, like, we could _totally_ eat this breakfast, or, you know…” she trails off, smile going smaller, sly, as her fingernails tap the tabletop.

“Wynonna, we eat here,” he groans.  Someone’s gotta be the adult here, and if it has to mean he has to _pretend_ it’s not a tempting idea so be it.

Tilting her head back, she sings, “Listen, if you’re doing it _right_ , eating _is_ involved.”

“You’re obscene,” he growls, pecking her lips swiftly.  “ _But_ no.  Food first, then work.”  She gives him a pout, the one she _knows_ shatters his resolve, but he just shakes his head.  Still frowning, she fists her hand in the front of his shirt and tugs him closer.  “Besides,” he coaxes softly, “It’ll be a _lot_ more fun if I don’t have to worry about getting syrup in your hair.”

That part at least is true.  She’d kill him.

Nose wrinkling, she sighs, “I guess.  I’ll just have to be happy in the knowledge that my technique _totally_ worked.”

“Sure it did, Earp,” he laughs.

“You don’t have to hide that you find me irresistible,” she teases.  Then she arches up to smack a kiss to his cheek.  “Okay, breakfast then.”

They sit, dish up—Wynonna takes roughly half the massive pile of pancakes and pours enough syrup on them to make _his_ stomach lurch—they eat in relative silence, and it’s _nice._   Dolls knows they’re gonna have to talk at some point, knows she knows, but for now the simplest thing is to just eat.

**Author's Note:**

> This was _almost_ a kitchen-table-sex fic but I got _really_ concerned about the breakfast on that table. It's always so weird when actual logistics get in the way of smut.
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed this mindless piece of... whatever this was, swing by my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I can always be convinced to talk about these losers!


End file.
